Soccer Opera

Last night we attended a Soccer Opera at Ballhaus Mitte. It was the much anticipated event of the EM season hosted in an baroque ballroom in Berlin's Mitte district.

This evening's protagonist was Germany facing their arch rival Turkey. The stage was set as a beam of light was emitted from a projector and cast a luscious green expanse upon the wall, falling between smoky sheets of plate glass mirrors above our heads. Sitting at benches, among candle light, the cast's coreography ran a gamut of emotions beginning with the national anthem and culminating with last whistle's blow. It began with national comraderie and moved quickly to suspense as the team in red scored the first goal. Mixtures of embarassment and frustration built as passes were missed and the men on the field tumbled on the ground. The liters of beer fueled the anger each of us shared as the live television signal was lost and everyone in the room was left to confront each other in helplessness and desperation. The chorus began shortly after the signal returned, Fi-na-le!...Fi-na-le!...Fi-na-le!... The game was tied by a goal that could have passed through a keyhole. Hands waved ritually in the air, bodies jumped up and down in unison and the clock ticked away.

The last movement of the evening was nearly forgotten until the composition climaxed in the final 30 seconds of the night. The screen flashed 3-2, Germany! Rooms emptied and streets filled with honking horns, broken bottles, and black, red, and gold tears from the Schwarzwald to the Nord Sea.